Tornado
by gingerchangeling
Summary: Sometimes destruction blindly rips apart everything in its path. And the only thing that can be done is to follow its trail and try to pick up the pieces and put them back where they need to be.


Tornado

He shut the shower when the water started to run cold. Another useless session of trying to scrub his skin clean. He grabbed the towel sitting on the sink counter and began to dry his face, feeling the discomfort in every touch of fabric against him. Like something had just stretched out his flesh, then left it out to dry and now it no longer fit his form as it was intended, but was stiff and brittle, hard to move, while at the same time loose on him. Slipping but restrictive at the same time.

It had been that way since he had had his still beating heart ripped from his chest. The stain of that touch had made his whole being body and mind feel wrong. Feel dirty. It had been weeks since she had rescued him and, in a dark hallway, shoved his heart back in his chest with her own hand. And yet still, it felt wrong.

He finished drying off and with a weary hand wiped the mirror, half expecting a different face, with a cruel turn of lips, sneering at him, a snake's voice whispering in his ear in a hated secret only he could partake in. But instead he was met with his own hollow stare, an empty glance set in sallow skin and haunted eyes. He could see the changes, the weeks of restless nights and unsettled days turning his face into a porcelain mask of what it once was.

He tried to smirk at his reflection, and only saw his pale lips move in a gross imitation of a sneer, to close to another's favored expression and he immediately dropped his lips and his eyes, instead staring down at his hand, the slight tremor that he had been able to hide so far. He sucked in a breath, clenching his first, trying to force the shaking to stop through force of will, but he only succeeded in making his other arm clench up.

He let out a strangled grunt, aware that she was in the room just beyond, and he didn't want to alarm her. Sucking in a few sharp breaths, he imagined that his arm still had a hand, and that he was slowly unclenching it. Faintly, he felt some of the tension ease, and he continued the exercise until the muscles stopped trying to pull themselves off his bones.

"Hey, are you alright?" he heard her call from the other room, and his heart raced unevenly in his chest, not wanting her to come in and see him. He hadn't yet had time to stitch his costume back on yet. He just needed some more time.

"Yeah, be out in a moment love," he managed to call in an even voice, and was relieved to hear her shuffling as she puttered about the room beyond, while he took one more moment to stare into his own empty eyes, hoping to inspire them to rekindle their fires for the woman beyond. But they remained lifeless and his skin continued to feel like it was not his own. So with a sigh, he wrapped the towel around his waist, breathed deeply, trying to pull himself together, and walked out into the bed room.

She was dressed in linen pants that tied about the waist and a loose linen shirt. It always amused him to see her in his attire, and she seemed to enjoy sleeping in his shirts more than her own. The billowing black fabric brought a small smile to his face, but it sat oddly on his lips and above his teeth and slid off almost as quickly as it had surfaced. She didn't seem to notice, as she stood in front of her mirror, doing that odd thing with her face as she pulled the small slips from her eyes. Contacts, she had called them. He always did wonder how she could stand to have those clear wiggly things touching her eyes, and then sticking her fingers in them regularly to pull them off her eye.

She caught sight of him in the mirror and gave him a lopsided smile as she held her eye open with one hand and pulled her contact out with the other, mouth wide open in her concentration. It gave her an aspect of innocence and he flicked her reflection a tip of his lips and hoped she would take it as an appropriate response. When her attention refocused on the task of removing the thing form her eye, he considered it successful.

He walked over to his dresser and pulled out one this realm's more delightful advances, cotton under garments. Allowing the towel to drop to the floor as he stepped into one leg, then the other, before alternating pulling up the sides of the waistband until they sat snuggly on his hips. He then put on his own pair of linen pants in the same fashion, before pulling out a cotton shirt to pull over his head. He had grown to favor the fabric since he had started dressing in the same style as the rest of those in this realm. It had all the positive qualities of linen but was much gentler on the skin.

As he tugged the hem down, he started slightly as warm hands wrapped around him from behind, wrapping around him to pull him to her chest. He went willingly enough, but the feeling of her skin on him felt wrong. Like dragging wet velvet across his skin, sending small shivers of discomfort down his spine, and it took his entire will to not flinch away from her or tense.

"You alright? You've been acting odd." She murmured to the skin between his shoulder blades. He could feel her breath warming his skin, like a heavy fog, discomforting and almost unbearable.

He knew she could tell when he was lying, so he spun around and stepped back, stiffly brining his hand and arm to her shoulders, putting space between them, as he looked her in the eye, "Aye love, I'm just still getting used to some things. But I'll be alright. Don't worry yourself. Not off to bed with you."

She gave him a hesitant smile, her eyes searching his for a moment before she nodded and turned to walk back to the bed. As she gets settled, he turns back towards the dresser, sliding the drawer shut, unable to disregard the hair-raising discomfort that spiked every time he moved. He wastes several moments acting as if he is rummaging in his drawer, before he voice calls softly, but playfully, "You gonna make a girl wait all night, sailor?"

He closes his eyes as he tries to resign himself. He knows what she wants, but he hasn't wanted to touch her with his tainted hands since he had lost his heart. She had been growing more insistent as of late, and although his body ached for her, he couldn't allow himself to sully her. Not with the darkness in his soul or the limbs that no longer felt like his own. It would be as if _he_ was touching her and not his own hands.

He shuddered at the thought, but dutifully took a breath before turning to take her in, lounging on the bed, tired eyes watching him. He had managed to avoid ending up getting bed at the same time as her for a while, carefully planning out his evenings so he could pretend to be asleep when she came in and on the nights when she ended up in bed before him, he kept himself out on the couch, not wanting to be near her, the latent fear of a compulsion of an irresistible command always lingering in his mind.

Her eyes narrowed slightly and rather than try to conjure up another smile, a feat he knew was beyond him now and an effort she would see through instantly anyway. So instead he let out a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face as he slowly tread across the carpet toward her.

"What is it?" she asked as he sat on the edge of his side of the bed. At her concern, he couldn't help the small smile that crept into the corners of his lips as he felt the warm glow that her concern always conjured up within him. But he knew she already felt guilty enough about what happened, though it wasn't her fault at all. So he held his tongue.

"As I said love, it's nothing." And it was true. He understood logically, that there was nothing causing him to feel as he was. His heart was returned and she was safe. So it wasn't really a lie. Not really.

Her eyes studied him, "Ok if you say so."

He was surprised that she had dropped the conversation so quickly, but understood when her focus immediately shifted to his lips, and she leaned forward, trying to reach them. But he couldn't. So He let out a false cough, turning his head away from her to cover his mouth, adding a few more just to sell it. She leaned back with a furrowed brow, eyes searching his face, before she huffed lightly and situated herself on her side, waiting for him to do likewise.

He settled himself down onto the bed, keeping on his back and trying not to fidget as the sheets pulled unpleasantly across his skin. He felt her eyes on him, watching, assessing, so he did his utmost to refrain from shifting and scratching at his body. He managed to remain still and settled until the moment she slid up next to him, attempting to lay her head on his chest. And suddenly it was too much. The fabric on his skin, the sheets, her body.

The fact that she was trying to touch his tainted flesh had him up and out of bed and across the room in moments. Her surprised call followed after him but he couldn't be around her anymore. He had to get away. Had to get himself clean before he allowed himself to be in her presence. He dashed to the door, not even considering the lack of shoes as he dashed out the front entrance, yanking the door shut behind him as he hurried down the steps, clawing at his chest as he did, trying to settle his skin.

He knew that she would try to follow him, but he wasn't clean enough for her yet. He needed to be clean. He had to cleanse _his_ touch from his insides. Otherwise it would his hands that were touching her flesh and not his own. He had to get clean.

His instinct was to flee to his ship, but he knew right away that would be the first place she would look. As he started to run down the street, his mind lighted on the cabin in the woods. That would be perfect. He could get clean and stay away from her until he was sure that the horrible strings that had tugged his limbs into obedience were well and truly gone. So he set off for the woods.

The concrete was icy beneath his feet as he ran, the linen and cotton of his sleeping garments doing nothing to fight of the chill of the frosty air. But it didn't matter. He just ignored the sharp bite of cold as he made his way into the forest. The bracken on the forest floor was touch and the pine needles, more than once, stabbed into his bare soles. But he couldn't stop. He had to flee.

He was careful to keep his hurried steps as quiet as he could as he made his way toward the hill where the cabin was located, trusting his memory and the stars to keep his direction. He felt his fingers and toes slowly numb as the moisture form the damp earth drained the heat from his extremities. He was glad, because if he could not feel them at all, then they would not feel so alien.

His ears picked up her voice as it carried his name on the wind, but it remained distant, before fading all together. He pushed himself harder, his hand coming up again at claw at his chest as he ran. Several times he lost his footing, falling hard before staggering upright, uncaring of the sharp pains that now littered his body. Maybe they would scrape some of the filth away and help make him clean.

Finally, after almost a half hour of running, he saw the cabin through the trees and ran for it. He made it up to the porch and tried the door, relieved when it gave way under his weight, and he tumbled inside. The single room cabin was dark and chilled from the bite of the outside air, so he quickly set about closing the door and searching for a stash of wood.

In short order, he had a small fire going and he sat close to it, rubbing his arms vigorously. Now that he was no longer running, he was finally aware of just how cold it was. His toes and fingers ached as they slowly heated up, and his various scratches from his encounters with the forest floor were starting to smart. He skootched himself closer to the fire, closing his eyes as the flames flicked across his lids, losing himself in the dancing patterns as his mind wandered.

The first memory to surface was the moment _his_ hand had sunk into his chest. It had burned, stinging and tightening his muscles, like the reaction one's body has when drinking something that is too hot. The sensation pours down the chest before settling into a prickling discomfort in the belly. That was what it had felt like, but there was no quick alleviation to the sensation, but rather a lingering burn as _his_ hand closed around his heart. And he could feel it, both in the vicious stinging but also in the sensation that _he_ had taken something vile and shoved it onto his soul, smearing it upon him, sullying his already blackened spirit further, but with a different sort of corruption.

And then the hand had closed and yanked viciously, and it was a searing agony unlike anything he had experienced, a void opening up within him, swallowing every feeling and emotion except pain. The demon had stood there and smiled as he had his heart squeezed in front of his eyes. And that sensation was even more torturous than the last, for it felt like every painful emotion was being ripped into existence, summoned from the very depths of his soul. The grief, remorse, sorrow, fury, guilt. They swelled as the fire in his chest burned more brightly, making his muscles twitch as they tried to escape the pain that was being conjured from within them.

Once his mind had become momentarily accustomed to the sensation of being consumed by flames from within, he felt the secondary sensation of something touching him, clawing at his spirit, and when the demon gave the first command…

He jerked his eyes open and jumped up as if trying to escape the flames of the fire before him would help him flee the memories burned into his mind. He needed to wash, to be clean. Focusing on that, he went over to the small walled off bathroom, taking in the copper tub that sat tucked away. There was no flowing water in this place, like there was at the houses in town, but rather a water pump outside. For once he was glad of such an inconvenience, and he dragged the tub out of the bathroom to sit in front of the fire, grasping with one hand and dropping his shortened arm inside it to the elbow to pull the heavy thing into the other room.

The chill of his frenzied escape was only just starting to leave his limbs, and he could feel his flesh starting to sit uneasily under his skin. He scratched hard at his arms and chest for a few moments trying to get his skin to fit right, before he took a deep breath, grabbing the bucket and heading out in the cold to fetch some water.

The cold air pierced his clothes immediately and his feet burned from another sudden change in temperature, but he grimly made his way to the pump and placed the bucket beneath it, levering the metal handle a few moments before water started to pour out, dousing his feet with freezing water as the overspray forced the water over the edge of the bucket. He hissed slightly but continue to lever the pump until the bucket was full, then he went to grab it.

Habit had him reaching for the handle with both arms, hand gipping one side of the bucket as he unconsciously made the motion of looping his hook under the other. He lifted up and the bucket tipped, splashing out more water as he quickly dropped the side of the bucket back to the ground, swearing violently. He had not thought to grab his brace before he had fled, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. It was better that way anyway. Just in case those strings on his limbs were not completely severed, he could do no harm in naught but linen pants and a cotton shirt, without any weapon at all. She was safe from him that way.

He shifted his hand to the center, and let out a slight grunt of effort at the weight, reveling in the strain on his muscles. How in control he felt with the tendons tightening and pulling. Finally, his arm felt like it belonged to him.

With the strain on his shoulder burning the muscles there, he ambled his way back to the cabin, trying to minimize the water sloshing over the side of the bucket as he walked. His feet were quickly becoming numb again and the bottom of his linen pants was soaked through. His skin was so cold that it burned.

When he made it back inside the cabin, he brought the bucket to the fire and placed it among the coals, feeling the flame slick his arm and hand, although they were numb enough with cold that he didn't feel the pain. Once the bucket was placed among the embers, he grabbed some more wood and built the flames up again, before settling down to wait for the water to heat up enough to use to bathe.

He felt shivers rack his body as his muscles tried to rekindle their heat within him, and he pushed himself closer to the fire, to the point where the hem of his pants might have been in danger of catching fire, had they not been soaked through with icy water. The stale air of the cabin was slowly heating as well, and the shadows danced on the wooden walls as the flames provided the only source of light in the darkness of the cabin.

Outside he could hear a soft wind blowing through the trees and the accompanying music of the pines rustling in a melody known only to the skies. The fire crackled and popped, the sound of the air flickering to life around the flames creating a soothing metronome of nature that lulled his eyes shut.

The memory surfaced before he could fend it off, the hissing whisper of the demon's voice through his mind, like the echoes of a dream that can be heard upon waking. It had caressed his mind, commanding him to act. And then he had felt as if someone had stepped into his skin and started moving him without his consent. As the demon's voice echoed around him, with the sensation of _his_ caress on his soul, he could feel the demon within him, violating him from the inside out.

And all the while, any joy he should have had in things, like her smile or her boy's laugh , was gone. The sea breeze was silent and her kiss was empty. He could barely feel at all, except his own turmoil. His fear. His guilt. His anger.

And then the worse part was after his body had done as it was commanded, against his will and desire, he felt perverse pleasure pervade him. The demon's satisfaction bled through his heart to kindle satisfying heat. It was what made everything worse. That even though he was shedding tears the void in his soul was washing him with a black pleasure. And every time the demon touched his heart with a bare hand, he could feel it like a sickening caress within him.

And when the demon had spoken with his voice, the sensation was dizzying in its discomfort. She was right there, her eyes concerned and suspicious as his mouth spewed lies that he had vowed would never cross his lips. And the echoing of the demon's voice into the very recesses of his mind. It was hell.

The thing that he despised and fought against more than anything else, to no longer be in control of his own fate, had been ripped from him. And when he had been forced to actively act against his whole world, using the bloody hat, he had never felt such deep and abiding shame in himself in his whole life. But there was nothing he could do with the echoes of the demon's words winding like fine thread around his limbs.

And then the order to destroy his love. He had fought against it with all his will, but the agony was overwhelming. The harder he fought, the more weakness in his own mind welled up. He had wanted to die. And when she returned from the house unscathed, he could not feel the relief that should have accompanied it.

And finally, in the clock tower, with the demon standing above him and being destroyed by the _his_ bare hand squeezing around his still beating heart, feeling his glee at the final moments of his life, while within him, his life was being choked out by every vile mention he was still capable of feeling. He was dying of fright and guilt and anger and sorrow. Hell was coming up to drag him back down with it. And then he had felt it stop as the demon suddenly suffered the same fate, _his_ body no longer being _his_ own.

He'd watched his heart fall from the demon's limp hands, and caught it with his own. It felt alien, like the time apart from his body had somehow intrinsically altered it. The thing he saw did not feel as if it belonged to him. And when he had handed it over to her to put back, he again felt the sensation of something sliding over his soul, although without the accompanying feeling of being stained with the touch of it. But he could not feel relief or joy at his heart being so carefully handled in her hands. He still felt like there was something within his spirit that had been ripped free.

And then she had shoved it back in, and in that moment, every emotion that had been missing was suddenly present, his devotion for her above all. He recovered from the pain of having his heart viciously stitched back where it should have been, and then he was consumed by his need for her. Ever smile was suddenly warming his belly and every kiss was suddenly heating his skin and he needed her more than anything in his life.

And having her pressed up against the wall in the back of the diner, for a while, had drowned out the sensation of being wrong, of being impure. She was careful to stay by his side in the days that followed and her presence seemed to keep everything at bay, but when he was alone for the first time since getting his heart back, that he became aware of the sensation. He sat and felt his skin shift uncomfortably, and his heart felt wrong, as if it was a different shape than it had been before and now no longer sat perfectly in its spot in his chest.

And then she had returned and run a hand up his arm and suddenly it was all wrong. She was touching skin that had been corrupted, loving a man whose soul had been tainted.

And so now he watched the flames, not realizing that his hand had begun scratching at his skin again, as he waited for the water to heat enough to use. He could feel it more sharply now than ever. He was dirty, and his skin was not right. He had to get himself clean. His very soul needed to be cleansed.

His eyes flicked to the bucket of water, which he could now see steaming. He quickly searched about and spotted a thick towel hanging from a bracket by the door. Standing with a wince, his cold muscles having seized up during his moment of frozen introspection, he made his way to the door to grab it, hobbling back to the fire.

Wrapping the thick fabric around the handle of the bucket, he lifted it from the fire, straining to lift it up above the level of the copper tub before he paused. He did not have his brace to help him. So he decided to try and brace the bottom of the bucket on the rim of the tub and tip it that way in the hopes of getting the hot water into the copper basin. But as he shifted the bucket to pour, the bottom slipped on the copper rim, and before he could prevent it, the bucket had slipped. In his attempt to catch it, he upended it and the boiling water poured all down the front of his body, scalding him as it went.

He let out a hoarse scream as he jerked back, his skin blistering almost instantly, his feet slipping on the now water covered floor. He fell hard, and his head collided with the hardwood, stunning him. His eye slipped shut as the pain from his burned skin merged with the vicious throbbing at the base of his skull, while the water pooled around him soaked into his clothes as it cooled rapidly.

Soon the water was leaching the heat from his body, but he could not find it in himself to care. His head was throbbing painfully and his skin felt even worse than it had before, burning at his front and slowly freezing on his back. There was no strength or will left in him to try to move, and after a while, he just let his eyes slide shut and he fell into darkness.

He drifted though dark dreams. His skin was being used as a marionette. Something was trying to restrain his face and he tried to fight its hold on him.

"Wake up!" he heard a woman call. He knew that voice. He tried to turn towards it, but something still held his face still.

"It's ok, it's just me. It's just me," she murmured. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

If any other voice had asked him to, he would not have bothered. But this was his love asking him, so he managed to pry open his eyes. There she was above him. He looked at her confused for a moment as relief spread across her face.

"Can you stand up for me?" she whispered.

He blinked, breathing deeply as he did. HE inhaled the smell of water on wood and wood smoke, and for a moment as confused as to why he could not feel the rocking of the ship beneath him. The suddenly pain seared through him as the flesh on his belly and chest stretched out with the breath, while at the same time, felt frozen with cold. His head began throbbing viciously. It all came flooding back to him. The reason he was here. The reason he had fled. And now she was above him.

She had her hands pressed against his face, her thumb soothing the skin of his cheek bone. She was smiling a watery smile down at him as he realized she was waiting for him to respond.

"Aye," he coughed out, and she nodded, shifting one hand to slide down his body to cup his elbow while the other reached for under his arm. He had a hard time shifting his weight up, but with her strength to aid him, he managed to sit up, get his feet under him and stand. Every movement made the front of him shift and stretch, intensifying the lingering burn.

He tried to bite back the wince of pain as he managed to stand on his blistered feet. As he got his balance, the chill of all his wet clothes hit him full force and he started shivering uncontrollably. She eyed him with concern and move her hand from his elbow back toward his face.

He flinched back from her touch on instinct, still terrified of what he might accidentally do to her. Afraid she might be stained with the taint on his soul if she touched him. But he could not go far, because her hand was still under his arm.

"Shh, its ok. Its ok," she soothed, trying again to touch his face. He tried to pull away, but had nowhere left to go, and so after tilting his head as far as he could stand, he finally ran out of places to move, and her hand slowly found its way to press gently at his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, both wrong and right at the same time. Her hands were so warm.

"You need to get out of these wet clothes before you get sick," she murmured. "Can you manage that?"

He heard her words eyes and was immediately afraid. He didn't want her to see his skin. She would see the corruption. Unveil exactly how wrong his flesh was as it sat over his bones. HE couldn't let her see. He had to get clean first.

His brow furrowed, and he lightly shook his head against her palm.

"No? Why not? Does it hurt?" she pressed.

He shook his head again. "Need to be clean. Have to get clean first." He felt as if his skin was starting to shift around him again and he instinctively began to claw at his sternum, gritting his teeth against the pain of scraping the burned skin there.

"Stop! Stop!" she cried, and the hand that had been under his arm now dropped to grab at his wrist, pulling his nails away from the wet fabric of his shirt and the flesh beneath. He opened his eyes at her tone, and she was looking up at him with fear. Not of him, but for him.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, pressing her hand more firmly to his face. "Why do you need to be clean?"

His breathes came short and he grabbed the wrist of the hand that was still holding his hand. He was so cold, but inside he felt he was burning.

"I can still feel him," he managed to croak out. Her brows furrowed, eyes searching his. "He's still there, on my skin and inside me. My heart isn't…" he couldn't finish, and his hand twitched to relieve the itch above his heart, but her hand tightened, keeping his arm away from his already burned skin. He couldn't look at her anymore.

"Ok," she whispered. "Ok. We can get you clean." Her thumb resumed its stroking of his cheek bone.

His eyes flicked back to hers, and now there was a steely determination behind the gentle kindness there. Another bought of violent shivers had her slowly pulling him forward towards the fire.

"How..?" he forced out past his now chattering teeth.

"Let me get the tub filled, and then we'll get you clean. "Stay here and warm up for a sec, ok?"

He didn't have an opportunity to respond, before she pulled away. The fire burned the skin under his wet clothes, but at the same time chased away the cold, so he stayed where she had left him and turned to watch her.

She stood over the wet pool on the floor and, with a face of stern concentration, waved her hand. He felt a small current of something he couldn't quite identify stir the air around him, and then suddenly the water was gone. Then she turned to the copper tub and, closing her eyes, repeated the gesture. A plume of glittering white radiated around the copper before fading away to the pale color of steam.

He watched her with awe, distracted for a moment from the sensations that wracked his body, as he watched her wield her magic, filling the tub with hot water in only moments, a chore that would have taken him an hour to do half decently. She eyed her handiwork for a moment before nodding and turning back to him, smiling slightly when she saw his slack jawed stare.

"Ok, now we need to get you out of those clothes. Can you do that, or would you like my help?" she asked as she approached him. Her words were neither patronizing nor condescending, but he couldn't help his pride from rearing up.

"I can handle it love," he mumbled, before slowly reaching down to grab the hem of his shirt with his fingers, wincing at the movement. Before he had even managed to pull the fabric half way up his chest, he shivered violently and the cloth slipped from his clumsy fingers. HE simply stared down at the offending hem, suddenly lacking the strength or will to do anything.

"May I have the honor, my love?" she whispered quietly. She didn't move, waiting for him to answer her. On the next bought of violent, aching shivers, he weakly nodded. She came up and very gently soothed her hand down his front, careful not to press hard against his burned skin, and he felt the cold fabric simply vanish. He let out a shuddering breath as her eyes ran down his now brilliant red chest.

He knew her eyes were taking in the nail marks on his chest and forearms as well, but she made no mention of them as she carefully reached toward the hem of his pants, pushing them gently from his hips when he offered no resistance, letting them fall with a wet plop, to the floor. He shivered again, now completely exposed to her eyes.

He couldn't look at her, staring down at his own body instead, surprised that there was no black stain on his flesh, no physical manifestation of the corruption on his skin. She paused or a moment, waiting to see if he would move or look up, and when he did neither, she instead leaned forward to press her lips to his chest, making his eyes flutter shut again. A wash of magic flowed over him, and suddenly the stinging burning on his skin was gone.

He let out a gasping breath at the feel of her magic over his skin, savoring the sensation it brought with it before allowing his eyes to open again to see her watching him. He gave a shaky sigh and a faint smile of gratitude, but the lingering wrongness of his body prevented him from being grateful. She seemed to sense that, and instead of waiting for him to speak, she gentle caught his hand in her own.

"Come, my love," she whispered quietly, giving him a gentle tug toward the still steaming copper tub. He followed her automatically, as he had always done. As he always would.

The few short steps to the edge of the tub seemed to take an eternity, and then she was spinning around and offering him her other hand, encouraging him to step into the clear hot water. For just a moment he hesitated, but then she gave him the gentlest smile and he was able to find the strength to step over the rim, her hands supporting him the whole way.

A moment later, the burn of cold extremities in hot water made his limbs tingle, but his shivering was starting to fade away so he allowed himself to settle into the tub. She released his hand for a moment and stepped away from the edge, and he barely had a moment to miss her presence before she returned, holding stool which she settled on the floor and sat down on.

Now that he actually looked at her, he noticed that she was still clothed in her sleeping garments as well, and another wave of guilt washed over him. He watched as she settled herself next to the edge, and then brought her arm over to gently dance her fingers across the surface of the water while she watched him. He found it too difficult to meet her eye, and after a moment, let his eyes drop to the water, and then slide shut.

For a while there was just silence as the two remained in their respective aspects. He could hear her breathing, and the hot water was seeping into his skin, soothing the burning cold that had taken up residence in his muscles. Then he felt another small wave of sensation that he come to associate with her magic, and he opened his eyes to see her holding a cloth in hand.

Her eyes were gentle as she dipped the cloth into the water, before she carefully reached out towards his face He tracked the movement until the cloth connected with his forehead before he let his eyes slide shut again. Carefully she wiped the damp cloth across his skin, each gentle wipe leaving a lingering sensation behind. For a moment he couldn't place the feeling, but then as she slowly began wiping down his cheeks and across his eyes, he realized what it was.

Her soft gentle caresses seemed to leave behind a cleanliness that hours or harsh scrubbing had not been able to achieve. AS she worked her way down to his throat, a low groan of pent up emotion escaped his chest.

"Shhh, it's alright. It's alright," she soothed. The fabric disappeared, and h opened his eye to watch her place it on the edge of the tub as she stood. Deftly she shucked out of her clothes, before stepping into the other end of the bath, facing him. She smiled as he watched her.

"Close your eyes," she whispered as she shifted forward, kneeling between his outstretched legs. After eyeing her for a moment, he did as she asked. A moment later he felt her press the cloth to his chest, running soothing lines down his skin under the surface of the water. He savored each swipe of the cloth as it dragged across his flesh, feeling as if she were refitting his skin to his body and stitching it back into place with the care of her hands.

When she asked him to sit forward, he did so lethargically, slowly leaning until his forehead found the crook of her neck, and he let its weight settle there as she supported his upper body with one hand while running those soothing lines down his back with the other. As the cloth mapped the expanse of his back, he could finally breathe deeply again. And it was only then that he realized that his deep breathes were accompanied by harsh sobs that shook both their bodies with the force of each wrenching breath.

But she didn't try to hush him or sooth his tears. Instead she continued her gentle ministrations of his back until she had touched every bit of skin, then went on to trace her fingers up and down the multitude of scars that laced the skin there while her other hand found its way into his hair, gently combing the strands at the base of his skull, which he noted between sobs, was no longer throbbing from when he had fallen.

Slowly, his breathing steady out and his tears dried. Once he settled, she slowly guided him back, supporting his neck, letting him keep his eyes shut as the water swirled around them. Then he felt her shift, lifting his leg into her lap. She repeated the same through ministrations to the flesh of his leg, and by the time she shifted to reach for the other, he was half asleep, the long nights and constant struggle with his own body finally showing.

AS she finished with his other leg, he felt her still, before she shifted again. He felt her return to her position between his legs before her wet fingertip trailed over his cheek.

"Can you open your eyes for me?" she asked him quietly. With a bit of effort he managed to make them flutter open, taking in her flushed skin and sweat dampened brow. But it was the honest uncertainty in her eyes that had him blinking his open open fully to focus on her.

"Do you trust me?" she asked him, her eyes serious and hesitant.

He answered without a second thought, "Aye of course, love."

She smiled slightly as the certainty on his answer, before returning to her cautious expression. "Will you let me try to help you?"

"You already have, my love," he replied quietly. She shook her head lightly.

"You said you can still feel him inside you, right?" she said carefully. He stiffened slightly.

"Aye," he whispered.

She nodded slightly, before leaning forward, supporting herself with a hand above his heart as she leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes closed at their taste, but reopened as she pulled away.

"Do you trust me?" she whispered, right above his lips. "Will you let me try something to help you?"

He paused for a moment, searching her eyes for some clue as to what she wanted, but saw nothing. Her hand over his heart was putting presser enough on his chest that he could sharply feel how wrong it felt within him and the sensation of violating contamination within him was once again at the forefront of his mind. But he saw only love in her eyes.

He nodded. "Aye, love. Do what you will."

Her brows furrowed for a moment at his words, obviously not exactly what she was hoping for, but after another pause she seemed to make up her mind and she closed her eyes. Then he felt it. The hand on his skin grew warm and he could feel it _sliding_ into his chest. He instantly stiffened with a terror filled gasp and she immediately stopped her downward pressure with her hand. He stared at her wide eyed while she regarded him with wary concern. He could feel her hand sitting under his skin in a bizarre sensation.

But he stinging violation that had accompanied every other attempt to pull out his heart was not present. It was as if a warm heat were sitting below his breast bone. She remained still for several more moments before she started to push forward again, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time.

Then he felt her hand wrapped around his heart, and he could not help the fear. His hand came up from the water with a splash to grip her wrist as his breathing picked up again, sending his pulse pounding. It was so odd, as he could feel his heart press up against her hand with ever fluttering beat.

She shifted slightly, and within him he felt her hand move before she brought her other hand up to his cheek. Looking his dead in the eye, she brushed the scar the lay there.

"Only if you want me to," she reassured him. "I'll only try if you want me to. I won't if you don't want me to." She murmured the words over and over against his lips until his breathing calmed. The he slowly released her wrist, letting his hand slip back into the magically still warm water.

He took one more breath before closing his eyes and leaning back, "My heart has always belonged in your hands anyway my love."

At his words, he felt her hand slowly cup around his heart and pull gently. And where before it has been excruciating agony, now if felt more like an odd tugging on the core of him, before her hand slid out without further resistance.

One again everything felt muted. But this time it also seemed to quiet the grief and the sorrow, all the emotions that had lingered before. For a moment he just wondered at the feeling before the most wonderful sensation swept over him, and he shivered on a low groan opening his eyes a second later in surprise. She had a smile on her face, and he watched her gentle caress his heart with her thumb, and the sensation swept over him again.

His eyes fluttered but he managed to keep them open this time, and after a few more loving swipes of her thumb to set him trembling, they both simply gazed down at the glowing organ in her hand. This time, as she held his heart between them, it felt right in a way it hadn't before.

Her eyes flicked to his again, and she repeated her question from earlier, "Do you trust me?" He nodded and she beamed. The she carefully sat back, withdrawing from him as much as possible within the confines of the copper tub, her legs rubbing against his pleasantly as she shifted.

Once she was settled she looked at him, "Would you mind closing your eyes?" He noticed she was careful to frame it as a question, knowing the power of her statements now that she held his obedience in her palm. With one last look and another fortifying breath, he allowed his eyes to close once more, surrendering himself completely to whatever it was she had in mind.

For a few seconds they simply breathed together, and then he heard her whisper something so softly he could not make it out. And then suddenly it didn't matter in the wake of the sensation of her hands caressing his face. He jerked in surprise, eyes snapping open to see her in the same position at the far end of the tub, both hands cupping his glowing heart between them.

He stared at her wide-eyed, trying to understand what had happened. And as he watched, she brought the organ up to her lips and again he heard her whisper something faintly, too quiet to make out. And then the next moment, he felt the sensation of her lips on his throat, causing him to breathe in sharply, suddenly comprehending what she was doing.

She lowered his heart from her mouth, and he could see the question in her eyes. Now that he understood her plan, she wanted to make sure that he was still comfortable with it. And it was that moment of hesitation that had him shutting his eyes and settling back, granting her the permission she sought.

"You are so relaxed you cannot move unless you truly desire to do so," he heard her say, and the next moment, he felt every tendon and ligament in his body go limp in an utter bliss of relaxation. For a moment he panicked, sensing that he was indeed immobilized by her words. Suddenly he had to check that the second half of her statement was true. He just _needed_ to move his arm, just to make sure. And as soon as he thought it, his arm bent at the elbow without resistance.

He let out the breath he didn't realized he'd been holding, now trusting that he could move if he truly did want to, and as soon as he acknowledged that, his arm went limp again, the muscles relaxing. As soon as his body truly accepted the command she had given, a deep wave of satisfaction flowed through him, as it had before. But unlike previously, he guiltless reveled in the sensation, brought about by her love and devotion to him and as it passed, he felt as if it had somehow carried away just a bit of the filth that stained his soul.

After the wash of satisfaction had passed, he lay limply in the water, waiting for her next whispered command. But it wasn't forthcoming, and so as his body finally settled into his skin for the first time since they had gotten his heart back, he drifted off into a haze, the water at the same temperature at the skin , lulling his mind into the sensation of floating.

He was so lost in the feeling of finally fitting in his own flesh that he did not notice her quiet whispering. So he was caught completely off guard when a cool hand ran down the length of his side. He jerked back to awareness as the sensation died out, but his eyes refused to open, and a moment later another wave of satisfaction rolled through him. He couldn't suppress the small moan that it forced from him either.

He heard her quiet chuckle across the silence and felt her stir against his legs. Then silence fell again. He would have tensed in anticipation, but that was beyond his control with her command still locking his body still. But his mind was anxiously awaiting the next sensation she commanded he feel.

"Feel my lips pressing at your throat, while my hand traces the scars of your brace," he heard her command this time, and he had enough time anticipate the sensation before he felt the dream of her cool lips pressing against his pulse while her non-existent fingertips trialed up his am and across the strap scars of his chest and back. He would have shivered, if his muscles had been capable. Then his eyes rolled behind their closed lids as yet another wave of satisfaction washed over him.

But as it was, he felt himself growing hard under the surface of the water, and it amused the small part of his mind that could be spared, that of all the things his body _needed_ to move, it would be that.

But that thought was chased away by her whisper, soft enough that he could not hear her this time, and his breathing froze as he waited. Suddenly her tongue was caressing both his nipples simultaneously and he let out a choked gasp that mingled with her laugh of delight, and even her command could not stop the tremble that overtook him as the after wave washed over him. He moaned again.

Her next command came much more quickly, and unlike previously, her former command did not fade, so he was suddenly assaulted by not only the sensation of her mouth on his nipples but he could also feel her trailing kisses up his legs and to the inside of his thighs. And then another wave.

Then cool finger tips tracing the line of the joint of his thighs, tracing up to the base of his spine down to the base of his now fully hard member. And each sensation was delightful, but suddenly it wasn't enough. And he _needed_ to tell her that.

"Loo...love," he panted out, "need...uggggh...ngggh. Need you , my love."

He heard her quiet breath of surprise, know she understood the gravity of his words. It wasn't what he wanted. He _needed_ her there with him.

"Of course. I'm right here," she answered softly, before she shifted in the tub. And then her hips were settled on his, her knees pushing his legs together as she settled on top of him, her warm core pressing up against him under the water.

And then her real lips were pressing his chest and his moan was unrestrained, the difference between the ghost lips and her soft pliant kisses the same as the difference between night and day, one just a pale, softened reflection of the other.

And then her felt one of her hands trace down his belly before he could feel it between his thighs, not touching him, but rather rubbing softly at herself as her hips began to rock on his, sndign slight ripples across the water. He heard her release a soft moan. She felt so right, sitting there above him.

"You cannot come," came her breathy voice. His whole body jerked at the command, before she shifted and he felt her hand line up his member with her as she slid down onto him. Another moan crawled from his chest a the sensation that was her body around his. The perfection of their joining.

She let out a soft whine as she began to rock above him, the water sloshing about, lapping at the copper edges of the bath, and suddenly he understood her command. She was aroused, yes, but his body was stretched tight, even with the command of perfect relaxation keeping his body still. And as she began to rock more intensely above him, he felt his hips start to rock into hers, and her soft sighs turned into vocal moans of pleasure. And he was overwhelmed.

He _had_ to see her.

HIs eyes shot open to take in the goddess that sat above him, her breasts bouncing with her motions, one hand buried in the water where they were joined while the other cupped his heart to her chest directly between her breasts, and in a thought that would have been insane in any other context, he suddenly envied his disembodied heart.

But then she shifted forward and her head dropped forward, her hair falling about her face as her eyes locked with his and her rocking increased in pace.

"Tou... Tou..." she started to pant out, but she couldn't seem to get the words out of her lips, but he knew what she wanted. And he _needed_ to give her what she wanted, and suddenly his hand was moving to her breast of its own accord, following the desperate desire of the heart that still rested between them.

He managed to bring his hand up to the closest of her breasts kneading to and pulling at her nipple, and he felt her body clench tightly about him for a moment in reaction to the sensation. He _needed_ her to do that again. He shifted his feet, and was suddenly able to thrust into her more fully, his shortened arm coming up from the water to wrap around her back and pull her hips down to his. The water started to splash about more violently as they each began rocking their hips in earnest.

Her panting moans had turned onto a oscillating cry of pleasure as her hips bounced more and more violently and the hand clutching his heart dropped down to his chest as she shifted forward again, trying to keep her balance as she continued to rub herself beneath the water. Her eyes stayed locked onto his, and he could feel her starting to clench around him and he kneaded her breast more fiercely, before reaching across her body to give the other a similar treatment, and he could tell she was almost there.

Her legs were trembling and her walls were fluttering tight around him. He _needed_ to have her come around him. In a burst, he was pushing up against her hand on his chest, his own sliding to wrap around her neck and pull her lips to him.

As their lips met, he felt her hand slide into his chest and he could _feel_ her there, indie him as he was inside her, and suddenly his will was his own as her hand released his heart inside his chest.

His kiss provided the last spark she needed and suddenly she was screaming out as she clenched and thrashed, and as her command was suddenly removed from his body, his jerked upright as his whole body released the pent up strain in a cry equally as pleasured as hers as he came hard inside her.

As the shocks of his release began to fade, he felt her hand gently slide from his chest as she hunched over to curl up on his chest in the water, and the moment it was fully out, he suddenly felt complete again. His heart finally felt as if it was where it was supposed to be. He felt clean again, the taint of the demon's touch finally washed form his soul, the devastation that was wrecked upon his mind finally repaired, and by the glorious woman who was breathing in his skin as she lay pressed up against him.

He looked down on her form with pure gratitude in his newly restored heart, his hand coming up to caress her hair before he dropped his lips the crown of her head. She sighed in contentment and he gave a small chuckle.

"I am sorry, my love, for leaving," he whispered after a time. The water still had not cooled, and he could not help but marvel again at the glorious woman who had chosen him to love. She sighed lightly, shifting her head to look up at him without lifting her head, her hand coming to press on his chest above his heart.

"It's alright. But next time, talk to me ok? Let's get through this together."

He rested his cheek on her head and closed his eyes, "Aye love. Together."

And at his words, he felt her magic swirl around them, and after a movement he felt dry, something soft beneath him as he opened his eyes. He couldn't help the chuckle as he took in their room, the two of them naked in their bed, dry and buried under the covers.

At his laugh, she gave small chuckle of her own, before snuggling into his chest, as she had attempted to do earlier in the evening, and this time he gloried in the press of her flesh against his own and the comfort of her hand over his heart, protecting him, as his arms held her tightly, promising to do the same.

And together, they slept.He SoSo


End file.
